


From a Bed of Olive Wood

by pippawrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending AU, Icarus Burning, Romance, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippawrites/pseuds/pippawrites
Summary: It was a marriage of convenience, but she would have done anything for him. In an ideal universe, so would he.The universe couldn't be called ideal by any means, but perhaps in some instances, it was.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	From a Bed of Olive Wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aladyinbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aladyinbooks/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Icarus, Burning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474366) by [aladyinbooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aladyinbooks/pseuds/aladyinbooks). 



> This is a short, happy ending AU for one of the couples from the story [Icarus, Burning](/works/17474366/chapters/41152589/), written by the amazing [aladyinbooks](/users/aladyinbooks/). It probably won't make much sense if you haven't read that first, which I highly recommend because it is fantastic. This also contains massive spoilers for a major plot point.
> 
> To aladyinbooks: thank you for being kind enough to lend me your wonderful creations to satisfy my inner romantic! I hope I could do them justice and bring them to life half as well as you did :)

It was strange how the same thing could inspire both immeasurable joy and unspeakable anguish. Aoide lightly tapped her fingers on the kitchen table, and didn't know herself whether her heart hammered out of happiness or fear.

Probably both.

Her husband would be here soon, and she'd yet to decide on a satisfactory way to drop the news.

More accurately, the bombshell.

How did other women go about it? Aoide imagined they would most likely be besides themselves, barely able to contain their eagerness at telling their husbands and the world. They would rightfully expect happiness and congratulations upon the announcement, and they would be given both.

Aoide didn't know whose reaction she dreaded more.

For now, the world couldn't know. It wasn't safe. Nothing was safe in the ruthless run for the throne of Lenia, any weakness a weapon for her enemies. It had seemed manageable before, the price to pay for her and Daimion's efforts to avert a brewing war, but this was no longer about only them. A third person had entered the scene, and eclipsed any other concern.

Aoide slipped her hand beneath her dressing gown and brushed her stomach through her night gown, and though there was nothing to feel yet, the gesture made her smile nonetheless.

_Yet._

But as had been the case since this morning, delight was followed by uncertainty.

The world couldn't know, but Daimion had to. He deserved to, at any rate, being the father, and whilst Aoide didn't think he would be _angry_ at the unexpected, unplanned for turn of events, she could picture him being disappointed.

Why now, of all times?

Her sister Deneira, cunning and determined, was clawing her way closer to the throne every day, gaining support for her bid with the promise of retaliation against the humans, who had made their successful, though questionable, grab for the planet Elysium. A small planet, but strategically massive, and the loss had cost Lenia face.

 _Face._ Aoide was deeply attached to her home planet, and she had not liked the turn of events more than her sister, but did it require war to rectify? Surely not.

Daimion, ever reasonable and sensible, had agreed with her, but not many others did. The promise of a triumph against the humans, who had a military might few could rival, was tempting to a people who felt they'd suffered a slap in the face.

It required all of Daimion and her combined efforts to counter Deneira's clever use of the crisis, and the arrival of a child tipped the scales against them.

Their child would be safe, innocent and not to be touched under Lenian law, but what future could Aoide offer it if its mother risked her life dabbling in the murderous chessboard that was Lenian succession?

There were no ifs or buts about it: Aoide had to leave the arena.

How would Daimion react to that news? If he accused her of abandoning him, reneging on her promises, he would not be wrong.

Aoide closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It would hurt to hear those words, but she didn't know what other choice she had.

Worse though, was the knowledge she was forcing his hand as well. Not through the removal of her presence in itself, though that would make it harder for him, but he was wonderfully resourceful and would, she knew, find a way without her.

No, it was the fact she had made him a father, and with it, given him an entirely new set of responsibilities.

And Daimion was not the type to shirk responsibility. He would recognise, no matter how much it displeased him, that the child needed a father as much as it needed a mother, and he would do his best to fulfil that duty.

Which meant he, too, would be forced to step back.

This wasn't what she'd promised him when talking about a potential union between them. He was well above her, she knew, and although in her most girlish, secret dreams, Aoide wished he would admire her a fraction as much as she admired and cherished him, she hadn't been foolish enough to think sentimentality would move him to a match. They were close as cousins and friends, but an alliance that could be as determining as a marriage surely had to offer more.

She had done her best to make him see what she could offer, and then provided as much after they'd eventually married. Their union remained a secret for now, making it easier to move across the board without being overtly tied to one another, but as much as possible, they supported one another. Their shared desire to avoid war had given them a common goal, and they had worked well together.

Until now. This.

Aoide swallowed and traced a finger along the rim of her half-empty cup, resisting the urge to glance at the time.

It wasn't unusual for Daimion to be late. They didn't live together, and it happened he was burdened with last-minute requests or problems he couldn't shake off with the mention of a wife waiting at home. For all that Lenia knew, he was a bachelor with no greater concern than getting the throne.

So was she, and her inconspicuous house in a more remote part of the capital afforded them the necessary isolation for him to sneak visits.

_Like teenagers in love._

Aoide smiled. She'd been a teenager in love and now she was a woman in love, and though her feelings were one-sided, she still thought she couldn't have fallen for a worthier man.

He had offered, of course, to be the one to remove himself from the capital and give them a discreet retreat, but Aoide knew his involvement and success in the military required him to be at hand as quickly as possible. Furthermore, she still had the use of her familial home in the capital if she so needed, and she didn't mind the quietness of the countryside.

How could she, when Lenia was so splendid? Even now, with a few artificial lights peppering the landscape, the shine of her moons softly illuminated the garden, making the night-time flowers bloom and irritating the glowing insects whose luminescence was best seen in complete darkness. When the moons were new, it seemed the fields and meadows were filled with shooting stars, racing reflections of the starry canopy above.

_I want you to see this when you grow older._

A sudden knock at the door, and without prompting Aoide's heart leapt.

Daimion had finally arrived.

'I'm very sorry,' he apologised as soon as she'd allowed him inside and greeted him. 'I meant to come sooner, but one of the Lords sank their claws in me, and - well. I won't bore you with that. Are you feeling better since this morning?'

'I am, thank you,' she smiled. 'Sit down, I'll get you some tea - '

'Thank you, but don't worry - you should sit down, I'll fetch it myself. Do you wish for anything else?'

Aoide couldn't hold back a small chuckle. 'I was just unwell, Daimion, I'm not an invalid.'

'Please remind me of another meeting you've missed? There,' he continued when Aoide failed to come up with an answer. 'Just sit down and don't worry, I promise not to harm your lovely cups this time.'

It was impossible to resist when Daimion was being sweet and attentive like this. Aoide gladly sat down on the sofa and waited until he came back with the tea before settling down as well.

'Are you sure you don't wish for anything else? Have you eaten today?'

'I have, and I'm very sure, thank you,' she smiled. 'Don't fret. Sit down and breathe, you look exhausted.'

'I am,' Daimion admitted, leaning back with a sigh. 'Though by all accounts, I shouldn't be.'

'Did the meeting go well, then?'

'Dreadfully. You know...' he replied, before giving her a sheepish look. 'I'd be surprised if there's no drool on my notes. But I did try my best, I know how important those things are to you. Here, have a look, and perhaps you'll feel smarter instead of dumber once you've read through them.'

Aoide laughed and took the sheets of paper he'd brought with him, briefly glancing over them. They were filled with Daimion's small, tight hand, though Aoide could tell from the loopy end of several sentences the writer's attention and willingness had been slipping. Daimion was one of the few who still preferred to write by hand, saying it kept him more attentive.

'There may be a nought and crosses somewhere as well,' he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 'I must confess, I'm really glad you'll take over that part. I can't say I'll miss an inch of it. I'll be out on the field and you in the Parliament, both of us doing what we do best.'

He was grinning, but Aoide's light-hearted mood vanished.

It seemed the moment had arrived, but she felt nowhere near ready.

_Be calm and rational about it. Breathe in. It's all right._

'Daimion,' she said, and his smile slipped at her serious tone. 'I have to tell you something. I...' A short pause, and Aoide gathered all her nerve. 'I'm pregnant.'

A fish would have gawked less than Daimion did in that moment. Aoide wanted to laugh, but this was their previous goals shattering, and there was nothing funny about it.

'I know this isn't the best time,' she continued, willing her voice to stay calm. 'I understand this changes... everything. But... I'm sorry, Daimion. I know it's sudden, and I wish it weren't necessary, but I intend to give up on trying for the throne. This isn't... this isn't how I wish to raise our child.'

'You're pregnant?' Daimion repeated, as though he hadn't heard another thing she'd said. 'You're - oh. Wow. I - wow. This - my goodness. Since when?'

He appeared more surprised than anything else, which wasn't the worst reaction Aoide could have gotten.

'A little over a month. I found out this morning. I didn't keep this a secret, I know how important - '

'You're _pregnant_!' he repeated again, but this time, he was smiling broadly, eyes alight with something Aoide couldn't identify but made her heart skip a beat. 'We're going to have a child!'

'Yes,' she replied carefully, and wondered how long he would remain so happy, as she'd been at first before realising what it meant.

She was still happy. She would be lying if she said she would change it if she could. The sudden, all-encompassing affection she'd felt for her child as soon as she'd realised its existence was a feeling of such wonder, she would never regret experiencing it.

Indeed, Daimion's smile faded somewhat as he looked at her.

'Are you not happy?' he inquired in a suddenly guarded voice.

Aoide refrained the urge to bite her lip. _Queens don't bite their lips. They don't fidget either. Sit still, Aoide. Look at your sister._

'I am,' she admitted. 'But it's... do you not realise what this means?'

A short pause, Daimion studying her attentively. 'I do,' he finally replied. 'And I understand your decision.' Another silence, a slight crease on his brow as he seemed to ponder before looking back at her. 'I think you made the right one.'

Aoide nodded. There really was no other one, not for her, but if he - 

'We will step back. I agree this is no environment for a child. But before we fully retreat, we need to be certain we do so carefully, and without undue rush. It will most likely take a few months, and I think it might be wise to continue as we have until now before we are certain of our exit.'

'Our? You - you are coming with me?'

'Of course I am,' Daimion replied, seeming startled by her question. 'What else should I do?'

_Should._

_Ah._

There it was, and although Aoide had anticipated that response, it still hurt.

 _Duty before desire._ It was part of why she loved him, this unflappable will to do things the correct way, but in that moment it felt like a curse.

The proper thing to do would be to nod, and thank him, and float the idea of one day, in the not-too-distant future, re-involve themselves in Lenian politics to make good on her promise to him. They both loved Lenia, after all, and watching her steer towards disaster was not something either of them wished to witness.

That would be the proper thing.

Aoide wanted to do the proper thing.

And in another world, perhaps she would have succeeded. She would have kept her head high, retained a grip on her emotions, and ignored the little splinter in her heart to work out the practicalities of their next steps.

But the splinter was there, and for a brief moment, her composure floundered. She'd never quite achieved the self-control her sister had, Deneira's face so emotionless it seemed a mask in itself.

A small crack in the facade, and Daimion's observant eyes noticed.

'Aoide?'

_Deny. Deny and refute._

She should have. But the tangible concern in his voice did the opposite.

'I'm sorry,' she blurted out. 'I'm sorry, I know this isn't what I promised you, but - '

'What you promised me?'

'Before we married,' Aoide continued, and it was easier looking at the inside of her cup than his face. 'I promised we would be partners for the good of Lenia and the throne, but now I've taken that away from you.'

'You've taken nothing away from me. You've _given_ me something incredible. I will agree this is unexpected, but isn't it the most wonderful of unexpected surprises?'

'But, the throne...'

'Aoide,' he replied gently, and suddenly he was kneeling in front her, taking her cup away to hold her hand instead and drawing her eyes up. 'Aoide. I'm well aware of what you are saying. I'm well aware our plans for the future have changed drastically, but I will ask you one simple question: what, when you look forward, do you think would bring you the greatest happiness - being called _Most Exalted_ , or _Mother_?'

Aoide didn't have to think about it. 'Mother,' she replied, and the simple word tightened her throat with emotions she couldn't explain.

'And so would I,' Daimion smiled. 'That is, being called _Father_ , not _Mother_. That would be your job, my darling. But I think you understand me.'

 _Darling._ Aoide's stomach did something ridiculous inside her.

'And I... Well,' Daimion continued, still holding her hand, but carefully choosing his words. 'Aoide. I know we married out of political convenience, but we were friends first, and not without good reason. You are a wonderful woman, and I wouldn't have chosen any other to be the mother of my child. I am ever grateful for your giving me that, allowing me to share a bed with you, and if you are willing... I will be the best of fathers to your child, but I also wish to be the best of husbands to you, if you'll allow it. This may have started as a political arrangement, but it doesn't have to remain that way, especially if we step back. Would you be willing to consider it? If you find me bothersome, I apologise, and I won't pester you with it again.'

Aoide was speechless and wide-eyed, hardly daring to believe it. Was he really offering her what she so wanted?

There was hope in his face as he looked up at her, and with an abrupt, wonderful stutter of her heart, Aoide realised there was only one reason for a man to look this hopeful when asking for a woman's affection.

Her eyes welled up, but her smile was radiant. 'Yes. _Yes_ , with pleasure - Daimion, I would have married you even if you were the least promising contender, even if you had nothing political to offer, and if you're willing to stay even without all that - I couldn't ask for more.'

He _beamed_ , and the next instant she was suddenly on her feet, then twirling through the air before Daimion set her back down to grin down at her, his arms around her.

'Would you? Perfect. My darling, forget about a dignified exit, pack your bags now and we'll disappear before anyone can stop us, to start a new life away from all those power hungry loons. Especially your sister. The universe is large enough not even that miserable harpy will find us again.'

Aoide laughed, a little breathless from her unexpected stunt through the air. 'That would be wonderful, Daimion, but you know that wouldn't work.'

'So you say. Are you challenging me?'

' _Daimion_ ,' she chuckled, and slowly dared to reach up to stroke his cheek. They had shared intimacy, long evenings plotting turning into more, but she'd never presumed to touch him as a lover outside of those wonderful moments. It would have been strange, but now knowing he _wished_ for it, doing so made her heart miss a beat.

They were _spouses_ , not allies.

'Daimion, I still...' Unconsciously she bit her lip, a little _something_ in the back of her mind preventing her from packing her bags right this instant. 'Do you not feel... I feel as though we're abandoning Lenia, if we run away,' she admitted quietly.

Daimion was silent for a moment as he considered her words.

'I understand why you feel that way,' he at last said. 'Stepping back is one thing, leaving Lenia entirely to the warmongers another. But I'm afraid that for now, we won't have a choice. I won't have you endangered, and I worry about how some will react once our union has been made public. It will be, at the latest when our child is born. I want you and our child in safety when that happens. But this doesn't have to be permanent. Listen, Aoide - it's true the King is growing old, but it will be several years yet before we have need for another. We will use that time wisely, I promise you. There may be other ways to build bridges with the humans that don't require us having or competing for the throne, but until we find the right middle, I want us out of the firing line. Does that sound reasonable to you?'

'It does,' Aoide conceded, and her heart felt lighter knowing they wouldn't be leaving their home forever. If their child's well-being required it, she would do it, but if it could be avoided, so much for the better.

'Good,' Daimion smiled. 'Don't worry. Lenia won't have seen the last of us, and our child won't grow up in exile. We might not be able to achieve harmony between our people and the humans yet, but we'll at least have peace, and who knows - perhaps one day our child will be part of those who work to make that permanent, instead of a cease-fire. As a matter of fact, if they're anything like you, I'm very sure they'll find a way to do that in a probably entirely unexpected way.'

Aoide smiled back, the assurance in Daimion's voice quelling her fears. 'You're right. Even without the throne, we can keep trying for peace.'

'I'm glad we agree,' he grinned. 'But that's in the future. Right now we have a much more pressing plan to see through.'

'Which is?'

'Run away and be happy.'

Aoide laughed. 'Very well thought out. You always were a master at strategy.'

'I'm not without my charms,' Daimion replied, and leant down to press their foreheads together, his gaze warm with affection. 'And neither are you.'

Aoide smiled, and when he tilted her head to kiss her, delightedly reciprocated. There were so many unknowns ahead, worries for their future and Lenia's, but regardless of anything else, they would have _this_.

Indeed the universe was large, but who knew happiness required so little?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> NB about the title for the curious: given the original story is inspired by Greek mythology, I went with the same theme. It is a reference to the marital bed of Odysseus and Penelope, which Odysseus made by hand from an olive tree, one of the bed posts its planted trunk. After twenty years apart, his wife refuses to believe it is him upon his return, and tests him by implying their bed has been moved; this irritates Odysseus, saying that would be impossible for anyone but a god. No one but them and a servant having seen their bed, this is both a testament to Penelope's long-enduring faithfulness, and what makes her realise it truly is her husband, upon which they are finally reunited.


End file.
